A Kiss That Can Cure Anything
by bloodmagik
Summary: Dean is living with Lisa and Ben and trying to give the whole "Apple Pie life" thing a go. Get up and go to work, stay out of trouble, come home and spend time with his family. Getting sick isn't part of the plan and, right now, Dean just wants to curl up in a corner and die in peace. Problem is, Lisa won't let him.
1. A Kiss That Can Cure Anything

**Summary:** Dean's trying to give the whole "Apple Pie life" thing a go. Get up and go to work, stay out of trouble, come home and spend time with his family. Getting sick isn't part of the plan and, right now, Dean really wants to curl up in a corner and die in peace. Problem is, Lisa won't let him.

**Disclaimer:** They still don't belong to me. Who do I speak to about that?

**Inspiration:** "When the Good Lord was creating mothers, he was into his sixth day of overtime when the angel appeared and said: 'You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.' And God said, 'Have you read the specs on this order? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts ... all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands.'" Erma Bombeck

**A/N:** I've fiddled with this a lot to make it flow better. The starting chapters were much shorter than the later ones and I felt that made the story a bit choppy. I've also corrected the few mistakes that I found. I don't have a Beta so any and all mistakes are my own.

I love the dynamic between Dean and Lisa so this is mostly between them, although Ben does make an appearance later on. Someone mentioned that they couldn't imagine Dean "being _that_ affected by the pain considering he's broken bones, gotten stitches, and been shot multiple times without going to the hospital." They also said, "He's never reacted much more than grimacing and cursing either."

The way I imagine it, without giving too much away, is that he's just lost Sam, and he's desperately missing him, when he gets sick for the first time since turning up on Lisa's doorstep unannounced. He doesn't want to put her out any more than he already has so he tries to deal with it by himself, like he would have done when he was hunting. Lisa doesn't think that anything is really wrong until he faints and, feeling guilty, she takes it upon herself to look after him. The "being affected by pain" thing, I'm going to chalk that up to what happens when Dean faints. You'll have to read the story if you want to find out what it is. *grins*

That aside, we all known how much Dean loves Lisa and that Dean's really a big softy underneath that macho, hard-as-nails exterior so what better time to exploit it than when he's sick and hurting, and desperately missing his brother? I hope this helps explain why I've written Dean in the way I have. I've also upgraded the rating to T due to Dean's language.

Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated and always welcomed.

* * *

Mornings in the Braeden-Winchester household follow a strict schedule. Dean rises first at 0545 so he can be at the construction site by 0730. Lisa joins him downstairs by 0630 so she can do a load of washing, make Ben's lunch for school and have breakfast ready for when Ben finally drags himself out of bed. There's noise as Ben chatters about what he'll be doing at school and could Dean please help him practice batting for baseball again after school because he _really _wants to thrash the team they're playing at the weekend. Dean will grin and tell him "sure, bud," as he puts his empty coffee cup in the sink and goes to ruffle Ben's hair. He'll kiss Lisa on the cheek and grab his work boots from the utility room, tossing a "see you later," over his shoulder.

Lisa goes over Ben's homework list to make sure that, one, he's actually done it, and two, it's in his school bag, before heading upstairs to get ready for work. She drops Ben at school on her way to work at the Health Centre and usually has to call him back to the car to retrieve the book bag or gym kit that he's left in his haste to join his friends.


	2. Chapter 2

_Monday 0545._

Lisa hears Dean groan as the alarm goes off and she rolls over to face him. He's lying on his back with his right arm flung over his eyes. His left arm is fumbling for the alarm clock that's sitting on his nightstand. She hears him huff and his right arm comes down as he moves to sit on the edge the mattress. He's still for a minute and she can see him scrubbing at his eyes from where she's lying. The bed creaks as he stands and shuffles towards the bathroom and Lisa squeezes her eyes shut when the light goes on. She can hear the shower running and she snuggles deeper into the duvet, relishing in the fact that she's got today off and there's still 45 minutes before she needs to get up to get Ben ready for school. She's trying to decide whether she should start on that new book or brave the mall and treat herself when she hears a cough that's followed by a low moan. "Dean?" she calls, pushing herself up to lean on her forearms. "You okay?" She swings her legs over the side of the bed and goes to stand with an ear to the bathroom door when he doesn't reply. She gingerly pushes the door open to find Dean sitting on the edge of the tub with his head in his left hand and his right cradled around his stomach. His eyes are closed and he's breathing deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, his face pale. Lisa crouches in front of him, her hand reaching out to cup his face and he starts slightly, gives her a tired attempt at a smile that does nothing to placate the worry that's bubbling up inside her.

"I'm okay," he whispers. "Sorry I woke you. Go back to bed." The look she gives him is familiar; it's one he's seen countless times, back when he was hunting with Sam and interviewing witnesses, hinting at the existence of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. Apprehension and doubt with a side of unease and concern that morphs into a frown. He drops his eyes to the floor when she sighs and shakes her head at him, reaching by him to switch the shower off. "C'mon," she tells him as she gently wraps her hand around his left wrist. "You're sick. Back to bed." He lets her pull him up until he's standing and feels her wrap her right arm around his back as she guides him back into their bedroom. Lisa pushes him down onto the bed and pulls the duvet up to his chest as he curls in on himself. She sits at his hip, brushing his hair off his face to palm his forehead and is pleasantly surprised to find that he's only slightly warmer than he should be. "I'm okay," he repeats, and she feels a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "I'm okay. I just need a few hours, sleep it off. Jus' tired," he mumbles as his eyes slide shut. "Okay," she says as she leans down to kiss his cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

Lisa gets the percolator going before turning to the fridge and searching for the phone number for Dean's site manager. She tells the gruff voice on the other end that Dean won't be in today and promises that Dean will call to let them know when he'll be back.

She sighs and it reverberates around the empty kitchen. This is normally her time with Dean, the quiet before the chaotic whirlwind that is her son storms in, demanding their attention. She's standing with her back against the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of coffee and she can hear Ben thumping his way down the stairs. She's getting the milk from the fridge and when she turns around she can see that Ben has stopped behind her. "Where's Dean?" Ben moves to the breakfast bar and flops into a chair, pulling a box of cereal closer. He's watching her as she places the milk down in front of him, waiting for her to answer his question. "He's not feeling well," she tells him and she swears that Ben looks disappointed. "Eat your breakfast." She smiles at him, ruffles his hair and laughs when his face scrunches and he tries to duck away.

Dean is exactly where she left him. He looks peaceful from where she's standing, leaning against the doorframe but when she gets closer, she can see the lines of pain around his eyes and the tension in his jaw. His eyes flutter open as she bends to sit on the edge of the bed and places a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I'm going to take Ben to school. Do you need anything from the pharmacy?" He lets out a shaky breath as if he's trying to pull himself together before he tells her that, actually, he's feeling better and that she should leave him to sleep and make the most of her day off. He's pretty sure he's got her convinced when she squeezes his shoulder and pulls the door to behind her. His stomach is cramping and he can tell from the way that his mouth is watering that it's only a matter of time before he throws up. He can hear Lisa telling Ben to hurry up and the front door slamming shut a minute later. He's forced to double over when the pain intensifies and he groans as he flings the duvet off and bolts to the bathroom with a hand clamped over his mouth.

* * *

He's still hunched over the toilet 40 minutes later when Lisa returns, gasping as the cramps and dry heaving leave him struggling to catch his breath. He slumps back against the wall, eyes closed, and wipes his mouth with the back of a shaky hand. He feels like curling up in a corner and hiding until he's over this bout of whatever-the-hell-it-is, like he'd seen Rumsfeld do when he'd stayed at Bobby's that summer when he was eleven and Dad was off God-knows-where, chasing the yellow-eyed demon. He's brought back from the memory by someone touching his right shoulder and he yelps before he can stop himself, head turning so fast that his neck twinges. Lisa can see him gaping at her, panic etched on his face; can see the red-rimmed eyes and apple-red spots high on his cheeks as he tries in vain to battle the illness that's waging war on his body. This is new to her. She's never seen Dean like this and, honestly, it's scaring her. Her heart jolts as she's reminded of a child; of Ben and the way he looks at her when he's hurt or scared and actually believes that her kisses can cure anything from a broken leg to a broken heart.

She tucks him back into bed for the second time that day and makes sure to leave the trashcan where he can see it. His breathing is finally starting to even out after the incident in the bathroom.

He'd attempted to scramble to his feet, eyes wild and unfocussed as she backed away with her hands held out in front of her. "It's okay," she'd soothed. "You're safe, sweetie." He'd muttered something about winged dicks and trench coats as he'd twisted to look around the bathroom, his expression bewildered when he didn't find anyone else. "I don't..." he'd started. "I can't... Cas?" before breaking off and looking at her with pleading eyes. "Who's Cas, Dean?" she'd asked quietly, watching as he'd wrapped his arms around himself, gasping when a wave of pain took him by surprise.

She sits at his hip and presses the palm of her hand against Dean's forehead; his skin is hot and dry and he turns his head to lean into her touch. "Sleep," she tells him, pulling the duvet up over his shoulders. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

* * *

Lisa's sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in the latest Kathy Reichs mystery when Dean appears in the living room, his legs trembling like a newborn foal. "Hey, what are you doing up?" She marks her place by folding the top of the page over and tosses the book onto the coffee table. "Water," he mumbles from the kitchen, where he's propped against the wall facing the breakfast bar. He's breathing hard and she wraps an arm around his waist. "Sit," she says, guiding him towards a chair. He's a foot away from the chair when his stomach cramps, making his vision white out and his ears ring. He feels his knees giving out, pitching him forwards towards the breakfast bar and he hears Lisa cry out as his head connects with the cool granite.


	4. Chapter 4

Lisa winces when she hears Dean hit the breakfast bar. They're on the floor and she's cradling Dean the way she held Ben when he was a baby, clutching him to her chest and squeezing him tight. The collision has split the skin over his left eyebrow and there's a steady stream of crimson oozing it's way down his face and onto his t-shirt. She fumbles for her cell phone and feels Dean start to slide from her grasp when she shifts to free the phone from her pocket. She dials 911 and is answering the operator's long list of questions when she hears Dean moan. "Hang on," she tells the man, "He's starting to come around. Dean?" She gives his shoulder a shake and he weakly tries to swat at her hand. "Can you open your eyes?"

She turns her attention back to the phone when he doesn't respond. "He's not opening his eyes," she says and she listens intently as the operator gives her instructions. "Okay," she nods to herself. "What if that doesn't work? What do I do then?"

He doesn't respond to Lisa digging her thumb into the flesh behind his clavicle or to her pinching the skin where his ear lobe meets his jaw. she's starting to panic when the doorbell rings and she sighs in relief, unaware that she'd been holding her breath.

"It's open," she calls, unwilling to loosen her grip on Dean. "We're through the back, in the kitchen."

The first EMT is a woman in her late forties with bright hazel eyes that make Lisa warm to her immediately. She's dressed in a dark green jumpsuit and carrying a backpack that is stuffed so full, it's a wonder that it's still intact.

Her partner is a guy twenty years her junior. He's Dean's height with a shaved head and Lisa can see several tattoos peaking out from the collar of his white undershirt. He sets the defibrillator and oxygen tank he's carrying on the tiles in front of Lisa and grins at her with a cheeky glint in his eyes. "I bet you get this all the time, huh?" He nods towards Dean. "Guys falling at your feet." He pulls on a pair of latex gloves as she splutters in surprise, colour rising in her cheeks.

"Mark," his partner scolds him half-heartedly as he shrugs and offers her another cocky grin. "You ready to get his vitals?" He grabs a pen from his pocket and starts to note the date and time on his left glove.

Lisa relaxes her grip on Dean as the other EMT reaches for his wrist.

"He's tachycardic," she says. "Pulse is 110. Can you go through what happened again?" She glances at Lisa as she pulls a blood pressure cuff from her kit. "He woke up feeling sick," she says. "He's been sick a couple of times and he was pretty out of it earlier; he didn't know who I was."

The EMT is inflating the cuff and lifting the stethoscope from around her neck.

"He looked kinda shaky when he came downstairs so I tried to get him to sit. That's when he fainted. He hit his head on the counter when he went down."

"He's been unresponsive since then?" Mark asks her while he's waiting for the next set of vitals. Lisa frowns and shakes her head. "He tried to push my hand away when I shook his shoulder but he never opened his eyes."

Mark nods and gives her a small smile. "Alrighty," he says and he turns towards his partner, pen poised over his glove. "What's the magic number, Heather?"

"Normal - 96/68. Respiration's at 21." The cuff disappears and is replaced with a thermometer that Heather places in Dean's ear. "102.8. You want to go grab the stretcher and call this in?"

Heather turns to Lisa and gives her a kind smile once Mark has disappeared into the living room. "We're gonna take good care of Dean. Sorry, but I need you to scoot over so we can get him prepped for transport." She takes hold of Dean's right arm while Lisa wriggles out from behind him and together they lower him onto the floor. "Dean? Wake up, sweetie," Heather says. "C'mon, honey, it's time to wake up now," she repeats, knuckling his chest. "That's it," she encourages as he groans in protest. "Open your eyes and it'll stop."

She presses harder, catching his wrist as it comes up in an attempt to stop the assault on his chest. "Good boy," she says as his eyelids flutter. "Fourth time's the charm," she teases gently when he opens his eyes to reveal bright green orbs made even more brilliant by the broken vessels that surround the irises.


	5. Chapter 5

His eyes slip shut and he groans, bringing a hand up to the lump that's quickly forming above his left eye. He remembers coming downstairs to get a glass of water and Lisa talking to him, the bolt of pain that tore through the lower part of his stomach and the nauseating cold sweat that usually precedes passing out.

"What happened?" he manages to say, his eyes coming to rest on Lisa's worried face. He doesn't wait for the answer and tries to push himself up to a sitting position. He stops suddenly when pain shoots through his abdomen and he can actually see the red-hot tendrils of pain exploding behind his eyes as he gasps and tries to curl in on himself. He feels Lisa squeeze his hand and rub her thumb over his knuckles and she smiles worriedly at him when the waves of pain recede and he's able to open his eyes.

"Easy, sweetheart," he hears the paramedic soothe over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. "Mark," she calls to someone he can't see, "it looks like he's guarding on his right side." She's guiding him onto his back and pushing his t-shirt up so it's bunched under his armpits. "I need to check your tummy," she explains as she moves to kneel on his left. "Let me know if it gets too much, okay?"

She's pressing down on his upper abdomen before he has a chance to tell her "no", that he'll be perfectly fine and could they all _please_ just stop poking at him and leave him alone so he can die in peace?

He feels her hands ghost over the lower right quadrant of his stomach and he tenses before she can press down. He feels his throat constrict when she does push down, and he bats at her hands when the pain makes him see stars. "Nnnguh," he groans as he pulls away from the EMT and rolls onto his right side. "Sorry, honey," he hears as he feels two sets of hands pulling him back over. "We're all done with that part, I promise," Heather says as she wraps an elasticated band around his left bicep and tightens it. "Mark's gonna set you up with something to help with the pain so we can move you," she informs him and she pats his knee as she moves to get supplies out of her kit. Mark takes her place at Dean's side and taps at the veins in Dean's hand to make them more visible. He wipes the skin and tells him, "Small pinch, man," as he slides the cannula in and secures it before releasing the band from Dean's upper arm. He only realizes that Mark is asking him a question when he rubs his knuckles over Dean's sternum. He looks up blearily and forces himself to focus on the question. "That's it, man, stay with me. Have you had Morphine before?" he asks and Dean nods. "Any reaction?" Dean shakes his head, closing his eyes when Mark splits into three. "Two mg of Morphine," he hears Mark say. "That should be enough to take the edge off without masking the pain. This might sting a little bit," he tells Dean as he injects the drug into the port in Dean's hand and he's right; Dean can feel the drug moving into his bloodstream and travelling up his arm wtowards his elbow.

He hears Mark and Heather packing up their kit and metallic clinking as they collapse the frame of the stretcher. The pain in his stomach is starting to back off and he turns his head to find Lisa watching him, her face a mask of concern.

"Hey," he whispers, offering her a goofy smile. "Hey, yourself," she replies and she moves closer to brush his hair from his face. "How are you holding up?" He snorts. "Me? Jus' peachy," he slurs. "They gave me somethin'. Is good stuff." She can't help grinning back at him. "The good stuff, huh?" she asks as she pats his arm.

Mark kneels at Dean's right side and tugs Dean's t-shirt back down. "Okay," he says, placing a hand on Dean's chest to get his attention, "So here's how we're gonna do this. We're gonna get you to sit up slowly. Then we're gonna lift you onto the stretcher. Let us do the work, okay?" He says and he can see Dean resigning himself to being helped. "Yeah, okay," he says and Mark nods, and gestures to Heather for the stretcher. The stretcher is placed behind him at a ninety-degree angle and Heather appears on his left. "We're gonna sit you up, nice and slow," she repeats. "Try to relax and let us do all the work." Their hands grip under his arms and he can feel his stomach object as he finds himself vertical. "Deep breaths," he's instructed as they wait for him to acclimatize before readjusting their grip and lifting him up so that he's sitting on the edge of the gurney with his feet on the floor. The cramping in his stomach is back with a vengeance and he rocks forwards, trying to find relief. "We're nearly done, honey," Heather tells him as she presses him back and lifts his legs onto the stretcher. She's smoothing a blanket over him and strapping him in while her partner places the defibrillator and oxygen tank at his feet and grabs their kit bag. "Ready to roll?" Mark asks and he grabs the end of the stretcher when Heather nods. "Up on three," he says and they raise the stretcher to waist-height and push Dean towards the ambulance that's parked behind Lisa's jeep.


	6. Chapter 6

In the ER Dean is taken straight into a cubicle and the curtains are pulled shut around them to give them the illusion of privacy. Heather is reading numbers to the on-call doctor as Mark, and two other sets of hands take hold of the sheet Dean is lying on and effortlessly pull him from the stretcher. He feels the top half of the bed being raised and he's pulled forwards as a pillow is positioned behind his head.

The doctor is an older woman with copper hair swept back into a messy bun. She smiles encouragingly at Dean and asks, "Dean? Is it alright to call you Dean?" He nods and she continues, "My name's Dr. Bell. Heather tells me you've got abdominal pain so we need to examine you and run a few tests." She turns towards a young girl in purple scrubs. "Julie, can you get his vitals and organize blood cultures while I sort a surgical consult?" The nurse nods and Dr. Bell breezes out of the cubicle as Julie pulls the sphygmomanometer towards Dean, wrapping the cuff around his right arm and clipping the pulse oximeter onto his index finger. She turns and lifts the clipboard from the top of the counter that runs halfway along the side of the cubicle, taking note of Dean's pulse and blood pressure. She takes his temperature and frowns at the reading. "What is it?" Lisa asks from the chair at the end of the counter and Julie replies, "It's up slightly – 103.6." She notes it on the clipboard and takes an elasticated band from one of the drawers. "Have you had blood taken before?" she asks Dean, tightening the band around Dean's right bicep. "Okay," she says when he nods, "little stick." She releases the band and blood begins to flow.

Dean is forced to shift his eyes away from the needle in the crook of his arm when the room threatens to turn upside down and Lisa snickers quietly. "Don't tell me you're afraid of needles, Winchester," she teases him and she snorts when he bites his lower lip and flushes. "Shut up," he mumbles, not meeting Lisa's gaze. Julie is struggling not to giggle at the exchange as she swaps the full sample bottle for an empty one and snaps it into the cap that's connected to the needle in Dean's arm by a length of tubing. "Last one," she tells him as she waits for it to fill up and she's rewarded with a tired smile. She presses a ball of cotton wool over the puncture and slides the needle from his vein, folding his arm over on itself to keep the cotton in place. "Keep pressure on that for a few minutes. I'm going to run these samples to the lab. Dr. Bell shouldn't be much longer," Julie says to both of them as she pushes the cubicle curtain to one side, pulling it shut behind her as she disappears along the hall.

Lisa sits on the bed beside him and lifts his left hand from his chest, entwining her fingers in his whilst carefully avoiding the IV the paramedics placed earlier. "What am I going to do with you?" she admonishes good-humouredly and he grins at her. "I'm sure I could think of something," he says, quirking his eyebrow suggestively. "Ouch," he mutters under his breath, his cocky grin morphing into a grimace as the movement pulls at the wound on his forehead and causes it to open again. "Careful," she chides and she squeezes his hand. "Only _you_ could be concussed and drugged, and still be thinking about getting ..." she breaks off as the curtain is drawn back to reveal Dr. Bell and a short man in green scrubs with graying hair, a Hollywood smile and an orange tan. "Mr. Winchester," he says, far too jovial for Dean's liking, "Dr. Bell here seems to think you've got appendicitis."


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning:** There's two teeny-tiny bad words in this chapter. Well, it _is _Dean we're talking about.

* * *

"Appendicitis," Lisa parrots and the man bobs his head. "I'm Dr. Cooper," he says, extending his hand to her, "I'm the general surgeon on call." He ignores Dean, moving towards the counter where Dean's chart is sitting and starts to flip through it, missing the glare that's aimed at the back of his head. The drugs are starting to wear off and Dean's tired and irritable and this guy's overly cheerful attitude is starting to piss him off.

Lisa slides off the bed and moves back to the chair at the side of the room to give the doctors room to work. Dr. Cooper is muttering under his breath as he checks over the numbers. "Fever over 38 degrees, tachycardia, guarding. Blood pressure's a little on the low side." He glances at Dean, chart open on the history page. "The pain, it came on this morning?" he inquires, skimming over the notes. "Yesterday," Dean confesses quietly, "It started yesterday." He sees the confusion on Lisa's face; yesterday they'd cheered Ben on at his baseball game and spent the afternoon at the park, laughing and tossing a Frisbee to each other while Ben played piggy-in-the-middle. Lisa thinks back, tries to remember if there had been any indication that Dean was hurting and she comes up blank. Truth be told, she's just a _little_ bit shocked at how well Dean hid this from her and her heart aches as she wonders how many times he's had to put his game face on, pick himself up and carry on like everything's okay, how old he was when he decided that showing pain was showing weakness. She's brought back from her musings by the noises the doctor makes as he sets Dean's chart down on the counter.

"All of the symptoms you're presenting are consistent with appendicitis," Dr. Cooper is explaining to Dean. "I need to examine you to be sure before we discuss the treatment options." He turns to Lisa. " I need to ask you to wait outside while I conduct the exam. It will only take a few minutes. I'll come and get you when I'm done and we can go over our options." Lisa nods and stands, slinging her handbag strap over her shoulder. "I'll show you to the waiting area," Dr. Bell says and she holds the curtain to one side as Lisa slips out of the cubicle, smiling reassuringly at Dean over her shoulder before she's blocked out by the curtain.

Doctor Cooper is lowering the top half of the bed so that Dean's head is slightly elevated, when Julie pokes her head through the gap between the curtain and the cubicle wall. "Knock knock," she says before sliding past the curtain and grabbing a fresh pair of gloves from the open box on the counter. She takes over from Dr. Cooper, placing Dean's left arm by on the bed by his side and pushing his t-shirt up. She gives him an apologetic glance as she reaches for his pants, pulling them and his boxers down so that his lower abdomen is exposed. She moves around the bed to stand against the wall as Dr. Cooper places the cold diaphragm of his stethoscope against Dean's skin, making him tense his abs. "Try to relax, Mr. Winchester," the doctor tells him and Dean grits his teeth to stop himself telling the guy where to shove his precious stethoscope. "Decreased bowel sounds," he says and Julie nods, making a note in Dean's chart as Dr. Cooper removes the stethoscope and hangs it over his neck. He presses down firmly on Dean's stomach with both hands, starting at the upper left quadrant and moving slowly across to the opposite side. "Right lower quadrant is rigid and guarding is present," the doctor notes as he moves his hands down towards Dean's hip. He pauses for a moment before rapidly removing his hands and Dean curses, throwing his head back against his pillow as his stomach spasms. "Rebound tenderness," he says to Julie, who dutifully writes it down before stepping over to Dean and gently tugging his t-shirt back down.

"There's one more test I want to do, Mr. Winchester," the doctor is saying as he moves around to the foot of the bed and wraps his hands around Dean's left ankle. "Lift your leg and bend your knee." He's pushing Dean's leg up towards his stomach. "Push down as if you're trying to push me away," he instructs, "No pain, correct?" He lets Dean's leg drop to the bed and repeats the test with Dean's right, nodding when Dean swears and tries to pull his leg from the doctor's grasp. "Sunnuvabitch," he complains as he grabs for his stomach, which is screaming in protest at the movement. "Fuck."

"Right, Mr. Winchester," the doctor says, overlooking Dean's choice words. "It would appear that you have appendicitis, as we initially suspected. Do you want me to go over the treatment with you now or would you prefer that your wife were here?" Dean pauses, remembering the look of disappointment Lisa had thrown his way when she'd realized that he'd hidden his illness from her.

"I want Lisa here," he says. He doesn't correct the doctor's mistake.


	8. Chapter 8

A big thank you to everyone who has followed, reviewed and added this as a favourite. You guys rock :D

* * *

Lisa's sitting in a hard plastic chair, hunched forwards with her elbows resting on her knees. She's only been here for ten minutes but it feels more like an hour, and she sighs impatiently, looking up as the door leading to the treatment area swings opens. She spots Dr. Cooper before he sees her and she gets to her feet. "Lisa," the doctor says, holding the door open for her. "Please," he gestures towards the treatment area. "The tests have confirmed that your husband has appendicitis," he's saying as they walk towards the exam cubicles. "Oh, Dean's not," she breaks off awkwardly. "We're not married," she says finally and the doctor clears his throat in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he says, "I don't know why I just assumed that you were." She interrupts his apology. "It's fine," she says, brushing him off. "You were saying? It's definitely appendicitis?" They're in the corridor around the corner from Dean's room and the doctor hesitates. "All of Dean's symptoms are certainly indicative of that. He asked that you be present while we discuss the treatment options," he says and he reaches forwards to draw back the curtain that's blocking his patient from their view.

"Can you give us a minute, please, Julie?" Dr. Cooper says and Julie looks up from where she's noting changes in Dean's chart. "Of course," she says and she pats Dean's leg comfortingly through the blanket that's covering his legs as she moves to give them privacy. "Dr. Cooper's the best," she tells Lisa with a wink. "He'll have your man fixed up and back in action in no time." He waits for Julie to pull the curtain closed behind her and leans against the counter in the corner before he starts talking. "Unfortunately, the only treatment for acute appendicitis is to remove the appendix either laparoscopically or via a traditional appendectomy. If it's not removed and it perforates, it can lead to peritonitis and, in extreme cases, it can be life-threatening." He glances at Dean's latest vitals before continuing. "Your blood pressure is a little low for my liking and it's making me think that we should go down the traditional route so that we're prepared if there _is_ a rupture." He looks up from the notes. "Do you have any questions?"

Lisa can see Dean's jaw tighten as he pulls at a loose thread near his covered hip and she smiles at the doctor, shaking her head. "All right," he says, as he stands. "I'll go and arrange the surgery for this afternoon. Someone will be in shortly to get you admitted and have you sign the consent form. You can have me paged if you think of anything you'd like to ask." "Thank you, Dr. Cooper," Lisa tells him as he pulls the curtains back and disappears from view.

* * *

"So," Lisa says and she turns to Dean who's still staring fixedly at a spot on the floor. "Appendicitis." She pauses and sighs exasperatedly. "Why didn't you _say _something? We could have come here yesterday, before you ended up with a concussion _on top _of all of this." She leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees and lets her head drop into her right hand. "You should have told me," she argues and Dean whips around to look at her. "I didn't think it was that bad," he snaps and he immediately feels guilty. He slumps back and brings a hand up to scrub at his face. "I just… I thought it was just a bug, you know?" he mumbles dejectedly as he squints up at the strip lighting on the ceiling. "And I've already put you out so much. I mean, who just _turns up_ out of the blue without …" He's rambling and she interrupts, moving to stand at his side. "Dean," she says softly, "I didn't ask you to stay because I felt bad for you. I asked you to stay because I wanted to."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Some of this chapter is based on what happened to me when I broke my leg in November. It was really embarrassing, to be perfectly honest, but if you can't laugh at yourself, who _can_ you laugh at? Please let me know what you think. I don't bite ... well, not very hard.

Warning: there's some more naughty language in this chapter. Bad Dean.

* * *

Lisa's taken aback when she sees moisture glistening in Dean's eyes and he looks away, clearing his throat and swiping at his eyes. "Damn concussion," he grumbles self-consciously and Lisa can't help but snort at him as his macho-man reputation takes a beating. "Keep telling yourself it's the concussion," she teases lightly, "if that's what it take to make you feel better about crying like a girl." He scowls at her and she throws her head back and laughs.

He's saved from further taunting when Julie reappears with a clipboard full of forms and a hospital gown tucked under her left arm. She pulls the curtains closed around them, making sure there isn't a gap between the curtain boundary and the wall before dropping the clipboard onto the counter beside Lisa. She unfolds the gown and turns to Dean, noting the displeasure that crosses his face. "Oh, come on now, it's not that bad," she says, "Let's get you sitting up." She raises the bed so that he's a few degrees south of upright and reaches for his right arm to pull him vertical. "Can you swing your legs round over the side or is it too much?" she asks, removing his blanket and moving to the foot of bed. "I can do it," he gripes and she nods, waiting until he's sitting on the edge of the table before continuing.

"Would you mind stepping outside for a moment," Julie asks Lisa, who nods and raises a reprimanding eyebrow at Dean before slipping out into the hall. "Lift your arms for me," Julie instructs, pulling Dean's t-shirt up over his head, "now pop your arms in through there." She lifts the flimsy gown up over his shoulders and moves behind him to secure the tie at back of his neck. "Okay, honey," she says, lifting the gown above his hips, "hold that there and stand up slowly for me. I promise I'll be gentle." She winks at him as she reaches for his sweats. "I'll let you keep your boxers for now but they'll have to come off before you go to theatre," she informs him and she thinks she can hear him mutter "Well, that's just fucking great," under his breath as his sweats are tugged down his thighs. "Pop yourself back up on the table," she says and she kneels down to free Dean's legs. When the sweats are folded on top of his t-shirt on the counter, she nudges the curtain slightly and pokes her head through the gap, noting that Lisa is leaning against the wall a little way down the hall. "We're all done," Julie says and she smiles warmly as she opens the curtain to let Lisa back in.

"Can I get you to fill in the gaps?" She asks Lisa, indicating the forgotten clipboard before returning to her patient. "I can't get you admitted until we have insurance details on file and I need to know if you have any allergies," she explains, giving him an apologetic smile and smoothing the blanket over Dean's legs. "Dr. Cooper wants to get you started on fluids and antibiotics. It's normal procedure for abdominal surgery," she adds when she sees Lisa throw a questioning look her way.

"I'm allergic to Penicillin," Dean says and Julie nods in acknowledgement, noting it on his chart. "I need to check with Dr. Bell to make sure you can have Cefuroxime, given that you're allergic to Penicillin. I won't be a moment," she says before ducking into the corridor. She returns a few minutes later with three IV bags, and she sets them down on the counter. "It shouldn't be an issue," she tells him as she pulls an IV kit from the supply cupboard. "We'll try your right this time," she says as she fastens the elastic belt around his bicep and pulls it tight. "Straighten your arm and try to relax," she coaxes, reaching for a fresh pair of gloves. She wipes at the crook of his elbow before gripping the needle and sliding it under the skin. "Sorry," she says, pulling the needle back slightly and angling it deeper on the second try making Dean flinch. "You're dehydrated and it's making it harder to find the vein. That's it there," she declares when she gets the cannula where it should be and she secures it with a clear plaster that fits around the port. She looks up at Dean and studies him for a moment; he's got his head thrown back against the pillow and his eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving as he tries to pull himself together. "Are you okay? Dean?" she asks and she places two fingers on the inside of his wrist. She can hear Lisa setting the clipboard aside and she appears at Dean's shoulder looking concerned. "Deep breaths," she coaches, "I'm going to lay you down flat." Julie places an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and she cautions him when he reaches for it. "Leave it be, mister."

He can feel Lisa's hand on his forehead, brushing the hair away from his face as the pressure cuff is wrapped around his bicep and he forces his breathing to slow. The ringing in his ears is receding and he chances opening an eye, huffing in relief when the room stays in focus. "M'okay," he assures them, "M'not going anywhere."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Yup, that's right - I nearly fainted having an IV put in. It was so embarrassing so naturally, I had to inflict the same torture on poor old Dean.

* * *

"I don't think you'd get very far if you tried," Julie tells him with a grin as the pressure cuff starts to contract. She clips the pulse ox monitor to his index finger and adds, " I reckon my granny could best you in a foot race right now." Lisa chuckles as Dean looks offended but he recovers quickly. "Is it hospital policy to laugh at the expense of your patients?" he asks, pushing the oxygen mask down around his neck and she pretends to consider the question. "Yep," she deadpans, "I gotta get my shots in where I can." She unhooks him from the monitor and she bats away a strand of hair that has strayed from her Barbie-blond ponytail. "Your numbers are in the normal range and you're obviously feeling better. We'll leave that mask on for a little bit longer just to be safe," She decides and she see Dean roll his eyes as she fixes the mask back over his face. "Is he always this stubborn?" she asks Lisa jokingly, looking across and catching Lisa's eye. "You have no idea," she replies.

Julie hangs the IV bags on a hook above the exam table and types the necessary drip rate into the regulator beside Dean's bed. She watches as fluid drops steadily into the half-full chamber directly below the pouch and adjusts the incline of the bed so that his head and shoulders are slightly raised. "You're due another dose of Morphine," she tells him, and she checks the syringe for air bubbles before injecting it into the spare port in his hand. "That's you all set," she says and she reaches for the clipboard with Dean's insurance details on it. "Try to relax. I'll be back to check on you shortly. Feel free to pull the chair over to the bed," she adds to Lisa and then she's gone, leaving them alone in the harshly lit cubicle.

Lisa positions the chair so it faces the bed and sits leaning forwards, letting her elbows rest on the thin mattress. She feels Dean shift slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position and hears him sigh when he realizes that it's just not going to happen. "What time is it?" he asks, looking towards the leather watchstrap on her left wrist and she twists her arm so she can see the clock face. "It's a quarter before two," she tells him. "Will you be okay alone for a few minutes while I go phone my mom?" He looks up at her, confused. "I need to ask her if she can pick Ben up from school," she explains, watching as Dean's brow furrows even deeper. "You don't have to stay," he says quietly, eyes dropping to the IV port in his left hand. "Go and get Ben - I promise I won't try to escape." He gives her a weak smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "And leave you alone with Julie? Have you seen how cute that girl is?" she exclaims over-dramatically and she's rewarded with a genuine smile. She stands, leaning over him to press her lips gently to his forehead. "I'll be right back."

* * *

She digs through the contents of her handbag in search of her cell phone and she let's the bag fall to the ground with a frustrated sigh when she doesn't find it. She squats down and decants the contents onto the pavement in front of her. Her cell is hidden by a pack of tissues and her makeup bag. She scrolls through her contact list and waits for her mom to pick up. "Hey, Mom." She says and she takes a steadying breath. "I need to ask you for a favor."

Dean is asleep when she returns, curled loosely on his right side with the blanket pulled up to his chest. His right arm is lying with the palm facing up and she covers it with her own as she sits down to wait.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I've just noticed several grammatical errors in the previous chapter. I will fix them as soon as I'm back on my laptop. The document manager doesn't seem to give me the option of scrolling down through the text when I use my iPad.

On with the drama.

* * *

Lisa doesn't have to wait long. It's been about forty minutes and she's still holding Dean's hand while he sleeps and she dozes on and off. The curtain is inched aside and Julie enters, forcing Lisa to push herself up in the chair so she appears awake. "Sorry," Julie says quietly, holding up two plastic wristbands. "These need to go on before the anesthetist comes round and that oxygen mask can come off now. Should I wake him first?"

"He's awake," Dean mutters sleepily and he rolls onto his back, scrubbing at his face with his left hand. "Sorry," Julie repeats as she removes the mask and goes to stand to his left. "I need to check that we've got the correct details, okay? Your name is Dean Winchester, your date of birth is January 24th 1979, you're allergic to Penicillin and your surgeon is Dr. Cooper - is that correct?" He nods weakly and she continues, "Great. The white bracelet goes on your left wrist. The red one goes on your right - it lets staff know you have an allergy," she tells him as she fastens the clasp to secure the band. "The anesthetist will be in shortly to do the pre-op exam. I'll be at the nurse's station at the end of the hall if you need anything."

* * *

The anesthetist is a lanky young man in his mid-twenties, with dark hair that obscures his eyes and Dean is painfully reminded of his Sasquatch of a baby brother. "Mr. Winchester," he says, "My name is Dr. Jessop. I'll be the anesthetist for your surgery." He turns to look questionably at Lisa. "Lisa Braeden," she offers, extending her hand and he reaches to take it. "Ah, yes, Ms Braeden. You're listed as next-of-kin." He pauses. "Shall we crack on?" he asks and he flips through the chart that Julie left when she came in with the I.D bracelet.

"It says here you're scheduled for an appendectomy. Nothing to eat or drink in the last six hours so that's okay. You're not taking any medications and there's nothing here about any previous reactions." He places the chart on the counter and leans back, folding his arms over his chest. "So here's what we plan to do: we'll give you a muscle relaxant in the prep room to help you relax and then we'll use a combination of Propofol and Fentanyl to put you under. We'll be monitoring you the whole time. There can be several risks associated with an appendectomy and the severity usually depends on whether the appendix has perforated. Some of the risks involved include infection in the wound, sepsis, pneumonia, bleeding and adhesions but I wouldn't worry too much about them." He pauses to scratch at his neck. "Does anyone have any questions?" he finishes and he's met with silence. "The surgery shouldn't take longer than an hour and you'll go to recovery until you're over the effects of the anesthetic."

He uncrossed his arms and reaches for his stethoscope, and Lisa move her chair back against the wall to let him work. "I need to listen to your chest," he tells Dean, reaching to undo the top tie on Dean's gown. "We'll just loosen this off and pull it down a bit." He warms the stethoscope bell between his hands before placing it over Dean's chest. "Lean forwards for me," he instructs when he's done and he repeats the motion at Dean's back. "Your heart and lungs sound fine. Just your blood pressure and heart rate to do and we can get you ready to go down to theatre." The pressure cuff goes around his left arm this time because of the IV port at his elbow. "Your pressure has dropped again," the doctor frowns. "You're sitting at 85/55. It's a little below what I'd like it to be but we can work with it.' He folds the cuff and places it in the basket underneath the sphygmomanometer screen. "We should be ready for you in the next 20 to 25 minutes," he says, dropping Dean's chart into the holder at the foot of the bed. "I'll see you in the prep room. It was nice to meet you, Ms Braeden," he adds to Lisa as he exits the cubicle.

Julie appears less than a minute after Dr. Jessop leaves and she pulls the curtain closed once more. "Not long now," she says, smiling at Lisa, who's fidgeting with the strap on her handbag. She turns to Dean, who looks even paler than when she left not ten minutes ago. "Lisa can go with you as far as the entrance to the OR and then she'll have to say her good-byes. She can sit with you when you're in recovery." Dean turns towards where Lisa is sitting in the corner and she tries to smile reassuringly. She's getting nervous and she can feel her leg shaking as she unconsciously tenses her muscles.

Julie checks the IV lines in Dean's arms before lifting the thermometer from the counter. She places it in his ear, and frowns at the display when it beeps. "104.1," she says and Lisa sighs at the number. "You really don't do anything by halves, do you?" she asks Dean and she gets a mumbled "Hmm," in response.

"Okay, sweetie, it's that time, I'm afraid," Julie tells him and he groans, shaking his head and flinging an arm up to cover his eyes. "You'll get them back," she barters and she can see Lisa eyeing the two of them, trying to work out what Julie is referring to. "His boxers," she explains, "they have to come off while he's in theatre."

Dean sighs and allows his arm to drop to the bed with a thump. "Fine," he grumbles, "just get it over with." Back when he was hunting with Sam he'd have been absolutely ecstatic that a hot nurse was about to remove his underwear. Right now, however, he's exhausted and sore from being poked and prodded by numerous pairs of unnaturally cool hands. Julie is adding his boxers to the plastic bag containing his sweats and t-shirt when an orderly, a heavyset man with a tattoo sleeve and a ponytail, appears "Are you Dean Winchester?" he asks and Dean nods. "All right, dude," he says, pushing a second bed into the cubicle. "Your chariot awaits."

* * *

**A/N:** I realise that the surgeon usually goes over the risks but editing on this site is a pest so I'm going to leave it with the anesthetist. Hint: can anyone guess what low blood pressure is a symptom of?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** That's right - there's two new chapters up. *grins* Hopefully I've got the medical garble right because there's lots of it. The joys of google.

Sorry if the fluff between Dean and Lisa is slightly OOC - Before I went into the OR to have my leg pinned I ended up winding myself up so much that I couldn't stop my hands and legs shaking so I thought I'd project that onto Lisa and let them have a wee "moment" because, in my opinion, there just aren't enough of them in series 6.

* * *

Dean reluctantly hands over his amulet and ring when the stretcher stops outside a set of grey double doors and he feels naked and vulnerable without them. The doors swing open and a petite brunette in bright blue scrubs comes to stand at the side of the bed. "Thanks, Charlie," she says to the orderly and he nods and starts back the way they came. "My name's Elizabeth," she introduced herself. "I'm an anesthetic nurse and I'll be helping Dr. Jessop look after you during your surgery." She looks up and smiles at Lisa. "We're just about ready so I'll give you a minute and then we can get started," she says and she pushes back through the swinging doors.

Dean looks up at Lisa and reaches for her wrist, pulling her down so that her face is level with his. She leans forwards and presses her lips to his, letting her eyes close just for a moment before she pulls back and brings a hand up to cup his face. "I'll see you as soon as you wake up," she promises, leaning forward again to kiss his forehead and his mouth twitches as he tries to smile back at her. "I'm sorry, Lise," he starts, breaking off when the dreaded doors swing open once more and Elizabeth appears with a blonde nurse dressed in the same bright blue scrubs. "All right, we're all set. This is Lindsay," she says to Lisa. "She'll show you to the waiting area. Okay, Dean, let's get this show on the road." She grabs the guardrail on the bed and presses a button to the left of the doors, causing them to swing inwards. "I'll see you soon, baby," Lisa tells him as the doors close behind him and she's left standing in the hallway with Lindsey.

* * *

Elizabeth reaches for Dean's left wrist and turns the wristband so she can see what's written on it. "I need to make sure you're who you say you are," she says and he snorts at the irony of the situation. "Can you tell me your name and your date of birth?" He turns to look at her. "Dean Winchester, 24th January 1979," and she smiles at him. "Good. And you're allergic to Penicillin?" He nods as Dr. Jessop pushes his way into the prep room, brushing his hair off his face. "Hello again," he says before directing his attention to Dean's chart, which had been tucked under his left arm.

Dean jumps slightly as Elizabeth tugs his gown down to expose his chest. "Sorry," she says, sticking a yellow electrode to the skin on his left shoulder. She attaches a red one to his right before pulling the gown down further and pressing the final one (green) under his left pec. She reaches for the pressure cuff and wraps it around his left bicep pulling it tight, and clips the pulse ox to his right index finger. "We're ready," she informs the doctor, who stands and reaches for a kidney dish containing three syringes. He pulls a fresh pair of gloves from the box on the wall and manipulates Dean's left hand so that it's hanging over the side of the bed.

He presses the first syringe to the IV port. "This is a muscle relaxant," he says and Elizabeth places an oxygen mask over Dean's face as they wait for it to work. "I'm going to start the Propofol and the Fentanyl. Just breathe normally, okay?" he says and Dean nods, concentrating on drawing in steady breaths as the room grows dark and he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

He thinks he can hear someone talking. There's a high-pitched monotonous beeping coming from somewhere over his right shoulder and he strains, trying to locate it through the haze that's currently engulfing him.

"Open your eyes, Dean. Your operation is over and you're in the recovery room," a soothing voice tells him and he struggles to pinpoint where it's coming from as the mist swirls and contorts around him.

"It's time to wake up, sweetheart. Open your eyes, Dean."

The fog is beginning to drift away, inching him higher and higher and his flutter eyes open as he breeches the surface. There's someone leaning over him and it takes him a moment to register his or her presence. He's groggy and disorientated, and he allows his eyes to slide shut and turns his head into the pillow. He feels something digging into his cheek and he tries to swat at it, failing miserably as his arm barely rises from the bed. "It's time to wake up, Dean," the voice repeats and he feels pressure on his sternum, causing his eyes to snap open. The voice belongs to a plump woman in her early thirties with short, dark blonde curls and a kind, heart-shaped face and he eyes her lethargically as she fussed with his blanket, tucking it around his chest.

"You're in recovery, sweetheart," she tells him and she reaches over him to adjust his oxygen mask. "The operation is over and you came through it with flying colors."

He winces at the pain in his throat. "Lise," he croaks, and he reaches shakily for the mask on his face as a wave of nausea washes over him and makes him shiver violently. "That needs to stay on," the nurse says, gently pulling his arm down. "Just until you're a bit more alert. Are you cold?" She asks, reaching over to palm his forehead. "I can get another blanket if you are," she offers and he's forced to swallow hard as his stomach twists. "Feel sick," he mumbles, feeling the cool plastic of the thermometer in his ear and the nurse clucks sympathetically. "It's a side-effect from the anesthetic and the antibiotics," she informs him as she lifts the oxygen mask from where it's dangling around his neck and pulls it over his head. An emesis basin is positioned under his chin as he coughs and spits bile until the exertion leaves him slumped again his pillow, eyes shut and chest heaving as he shivers and struggles to catch his breath. He flinches as something wet wipes at his mouth and it's quickly replaced with a plastic cup of water that the nurse presses to his lips. "Rinse and spit, okay?" she instructs, holding a basin to his mouth.

"I want to check your incision and then we'll see about getting your partner in to sit with you." The oxygen mask is fitted over his mouth and nose again and the nurse reaches for his blanket. She folds it back until it sits below his hips and lifts his gown to reveal the gauze-covered incision that runs along the imaginary line between the top of his hip and his belly button. "Your incision looks fine," she tells him as she layers a second blanket over the first. "Katie?" she calls and an older woman with glasses and a graying plait looks up from the nurse's station which sits opposite the line of cubicles. "Could you ask Lisa Braeden to come through?"

* * *

**A/N: **I haven't named the nurse who's looking after Dean in recovery because I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't remember if she told him.

_Please let me know what you think. J_


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**: Ben makes an appearance in this chapter. *Whoop*

I don't have kids so I'm not sure if the way Lisa talks to Ben is age-appropriate. Please let me know if it's not so I can change it. He's ten for the purpose of this story. This chapter is mostly Lisa's point of view.

* * *

The surgical waiting room is small in comparison to the one downstairs and Lisa lets herself flop ungracefully onto a tired-looking sofa in one of the corners. There's a large flat-screen TV on the wall and it's tuned to a local news channel that is currently churning out a story about a mother in New York being arrested because her second-grader son took a gun to school in his backpack. She sighs and flips open her cell phone before snapping it shut again and chucking it down so that it bounces off the seat cushion onto the cold, tiled floor. She glances at her watch and the hands tell her that it's twelve minutes past three and it's only been seventeen minutes since she kissed Dean goodbye outside the OR. It feels more like an hour and she wishes she had someone or something there to distract her. She's starting to think that someone is screwing with her when she looks at her watch a little while later and finds that only seven minutes have passed since the last check. She dumps her watch unceremoniously in her handbag the second time it happens and slumps down even further in the chair, only to bolt upright when she realizes that she hasn't told her mom that Dean has been taken for his operation. She dials her mom's number from memory and waits for her to pick up.

It's twenty minutes later when the door to the waiting room creaks open and Lisa looks up just in time to see Ben barreling towards her. He throws himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck and squeezing her tight and she can't help but smile and pull him closer. "Hi, baby," she greets him, "how was school?" He wiggles out of her grip and ignores the question. "Is Dean ok? Grandma said he was sick. Is he here? Can I see him?" he asks without pausing for air and Lisa isn't sure if she should be pleased that Ben obviously likes Dean or slightly envious of the way her son worships him. She looks up at her mother who's trying her hardest not to laugh at Ben's outburst and Lisa grins, quirking an eyebrow as if to say, '_you see what I have to put up with?' _She pats the seat beside her and Ben sits, never letting his eyes wander from her face. "Dean's going to be fine," she tells him and the relief that washes over her son's features is evident. Ben lets himself collapse against the back of the chair now that he's sure that Dean really is okay because Mom has never lied to him about Dean. "Can I see him?" he asks again and Lisa hesitates. "Maybe later, baby," she says gently, "He had to have his appendix out and I don't know if he'll be up for visitors tonight. I know he'll want to see you as soon as he's feeling up to it." Ben's face drops and she quickly changes the subject. "Have you got homework?"

Her mom is flipping through a magazine that's four months out of date and she drapes it over the arm of her chair when none of the articles catch her attention. "How long did they say it would take," she asks her daughter and Lisa looks up from where she's helping Ben with a math problem. "About an hour," she says, glancing at her watch. "He went in just before three." Her mom looks for the numbers in the left-hand corner of the TV screen and nods before she turns back to look at her daughter and starts to flip through the magazine for the second time.

* * *

Lisa's patience is waning. It's 23 minutes past four and she's still waiting. She's alternating between tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair and wringing her hands, throwing the occasional glance towards the door, which obstinately remains shut. "Lisa," her mom says, leaning forwards and placing her hand on Lisa's forearm, "try not to worry, hmm? I'm sure someone will be in shortly to let you know what's happening." Lisa looks up from where she's been staring at a crack in the floor and worries at her lower lip. "Someone should have been in to see us by now," she says quietly and she whips around to face the door as it opens to reveal Dr. Cooper, who crosses the room and moves to sit on the coffee table in front of her. He smiles reassuringly at her and turns his attention to Lisa's mother, extending his hand. "Dr. Cooper," he says as she takes his palm in her own. "Michelle Braeden," she offers. "And my grandson, Ben," she says, nodding to where Ben is cautiously watching the exchange. "It's a pleasure to meet you," the doctor says and he hunches over, leaning his elbows on his thighs. "Dean came through the surgery without any major complications. Unfortunately, his appendix had ruptured by the time we located it but we were prepared for that and he'd already been started on broad-spectrum antibiotics prior to the appendectomy." He pauses and shifts slightly. "We'll keep him for the next four to seven days and keep a close eye to see make sure there's no infection and that he's responding to the antibiotics." He pushes himself upright and smiles at Lisa. "Dean's in recovery right now. It'll be another twenty, twenty-five minutes before the anesthetic wears off and he'll stay for about an hour after he wakes up. Someone will come and let you know when he's being moved up to the ward." Lisa stands with the doctor and offers her hand. "Thank you," she tells him as he turns to leave.

* * *

When the door opens once again, Lisa is flicking through a fashion magazine, finally able to concentrate now that she knows Dean is okay. It's a nurse in bright blue scrubs, the same ones both Elizabeth and Lindsay had worn, and Lisa lifts her head to watch as the nurse walks over to the information desk. She returns to the magazine, only tearing herself away when she hears Ben say, "Mom?" and she looks up to find the nurse standing in front of her. "Ms Braeden?" the nurse asks, and Lisa nods, setting the magazine down on the side table. "Dean's asking for you."


	14. Chapter 14

They turn right as they leave the waiting room and make their way down another nondescript corridor. The air is heavy with the smell of antiseptic and on the wrong side of cool, and Lisa feels goose bumps erupt over her bare arms as the nurse stops in front of a door marked "P.A.C.U." The nurse unclips her swipe card from the pocket on her scrub top and the doors swing open automatically to reveal a line of curtained-off cubicles and a nurse's station on the opposite wall.

Dean is in the fourth cubicle along and she hesitates, hovering in the opening created by the curtains. The bed is raised so he's almost sitting and his top half is propped up on several pillows. His eyes are closed, his face, normally dressed in a cocky smile, is pale and the dusting of freckles that covers his cheeks is obscured by an oxygen mask, which mists as he breathes. The gash above his eye has been cleaned and closed with steri-strips, and the bruising has taken on the appearance of a dark smudge underneath his eye. She can see the electrodes connecting him to the heart monitor where someone has pulled his gown down, exposing his shoulders and her eyes continue down to the blanket that has been pulled up over his chest.

"You can go in and sit with him, honey." The voice comes from the desk at the nurses' station behind her and she spins on her heel to face it. The older woman who brought her from the waiting room is standing with another woman in the same bright blue scrubs. She's Lisa's age with blonde curls that fall just below her ears and bright blue eyes that remind Lisa of the summer sky. She's smiling and she nods towards Dean. "Go on in, my love. He's been asking for you." She closes the chart she's been making changes to and leans over the desk to drop it in the relevant tray. "I'll go and get you a chair," she says, patting Lisa on the shoulder as she passes.

Dean's eyes flutter open when she lays her hand over the top of his and, without thinking, he struggles to push himself further up the bed, hand clutching at his stomach when the rush of pain leaves him panting. "Dean?" Lisa's hunched over him, peering worriedly at his face as he sits stock still, waiting for the ache to subside. His mouth twitches as he sags into his pillow. "M'okay," he croaks, "'Mind me not t'move again." His free hand comes up to rub unsteadily at his face and he winces when it presses on the tender flesh around his left eye.

"How are you feeling," Lisa asks, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. He smiles at her and for the first time, she realizes that he looks absolutely exhausted beneath the pallor brought on by his illness. "Feels like I got hit by a bus," he manages shakily as the curtains are pulled back and the nurse reappears clutching a chair.

* * *

"How long?" Dean mumbles sleepily and Lisa leans forwards in her chair to answer when he turns his head towards her. "How long are you going to be in the hospital?" she checks and he nods, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. "A couple of days," she tells him and she cuts him off before he can protest. "Don't even think about telling me that you don't need to be here," she warns, "because you do." He glares pathetically and she leans back, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm not arguing with you about this," she says, adamant. "The doctor says you need to stay so you're staying." Her voice softens and catches as she continues, "Your appendix burst. They need to make sure there's no complications." Dean's gaze falls to his blanketed feet and he toys with the plastic bracelet on his right wrist.

" 'M sorry," he says faintly and she smiles sadly. "I know, Dean," she tells him, "I know you are."

* * *

The nurse is checking Dean's vitals; He's still woozy and unfocussed from the anesthetic and Lisa's anxiety is skyrocketing. "I'm going to have Dr. Jessop paged," the nurse is saying as she makes a note in Dean's chart. "He might want to keep Dean in recovery until he's a bit more coherent. It's nothing to be concerned about," she adds, seeing the concern on Lisa's face, "Some people just take a bit longer to shake off the anesthetic."

She smiles reassuringly at Lisa when she returns a few minutes later. "He's happy for Dean to go up to the ward. They'll continue to monitor him until he's more alert." She moves to stand at the side of the bed and her hands come up to rest on the guardrail. "Dean, honey," she addresses her patient, "you'll be moving upstairs onto the ward in a few minutes so I'm going to start getting you ready now, okay?"

She reaches for his hand to remove the pulse ox clip from his index finger, dropping it in the basket under the blood pressure monitor. Her ministrations are interrupted by a young man, who raps his knuckles on the frame at the bottom of Dean's bed to alert them to his presence. He's dressed in the same grey polo shirt and navy cargos as the heavily tattooed orderly from the ER and he smiles timidly at Lisa before turning to the nurse. "Hi, Judith," he says as she starts to unhook Dean from the ECG monitor. "I'm here for…" he pauses and checks the name on his clipboard, "Dean Winchester?" He looks at her questionably as she pulls the gown up over Dean's shoulders. "This is Dean," she tells him and she releases the brake on the wheel at the top of the bed. The orderly moves into the cubicle, mimicking the nurse and unlocking the brake at the bottom. "Okay, sweetie," the nurse says to Dean, "That's you all set. Sam here will take you and Lisa upstairs," she tells him, and Lisa sees him flinch at the orderly's name. "Take care, now," the nurse adds as Sam pushes the bed into the corridor and Lisa turns to smile at the nurse. "Thank you," she says and the nurse beams back at her. "You're very welcome, my dear," she replies and she squeezes Lisa's shoulder as she moves to wipe Dean's name from the whiteboard behind the desk.


	15. Chapter 15

The surgical ward is on the fifth floor and this time the swinging doors are teal. Sam steers the bed (and Dean) down the narrow corridor and Lisa notices the assortment of single, double and communal rooms as they head for the nurses' station at the end of the walkway. The nurse behind the desk is young with peroxide blonde hair scraped back into a knot on the top of her head, and Lisa wonders is she's _actually _old enough to be working here. She looks up from her paperwork as they approach and moves round to stand at the side of the desk. "Hey, Sam," she greets the orderly, "Is this my appendectomy patient?" She takes the file that Sam is offering and looks down to check the name on it. "Hi, Dean," she says, smiling down at him, "My name's Vicky. I'll be looking after you until the nightshift come in a little bit later on. Let's get you settled into your room and then I'll go through everything with you and your partner." She nods at Lisa and tucks Dean's chart under her arm before she turns to Sam. "He's in seven," she says and Sam nods, turning 180 and heading back the way they came.

* * *

Room seven, to Dean's utter relief, turns out to be a single room with warm yellow walls and a small table and armchair in the corner by the window. He's exhausted from desperately missing his brother and illness, and he's had more than enough experience to know that undisturbed sleep in a shared ward just doesn't happen no matter how tired you are. Lisa drops into the chair, watching as Vicky attaches the electrodes on Dean's chest to the E.C.G monitor to the right of his bed. Dean's still drowsy and he sluggishly tries to reach for the oxygen mask when Vicky fixes it over his mouth and nose once more. "Dean," Lisa cautions wearily and he lets his arm drop to the bed, crestfallen. "It's not for long," Vicky says, trying to appease him. "It can come off when you wake up a little bit more." She moves to the foot of the bed and retrieves his chart from the holder on the bed frame, flicking through until she finds the page she's looking for. " I need to take your vitals and check your incision and then I'll leave you to rest, okay?" She's reaching for the glove box that's somehow stuck on the wall next to a small yellow bin labeled "sharps". "Are you okay for me to do that with your partner here?" She turns to Lisa, eyebrows quirking in apparent amusement. "Sorry, but I have to ask. That okay with you, Dean?" she asks again as she snaps on the fresh gloves and Dean snorts. "S'not like she hasn't seen't b'fore," he mutters and she grins at him. "Alright then." The blankets are folded back over his hips and his gown lifted to reveal the three-inch wound on his stomach. "Your incision looks good," She tells him as she pulls the blankets up to Dean's waist and reaches for the blood pressure monitor that's sitting beside the open door. She wraps the cuff around his left arm and smiles when the machine beeps. "Your pressure is starting to come back up. It was a little low before," she reports as she presses the thermometer to Dean's ear. "What is it?" Lisa asks when the alarm goes off and the nurse looks at the reading. "103.9 – down from 104.1 so we're heading in the right direction," she replies and they both smile when Dean gives them a shaky thumbs up.

"Okay, Hun," Vicky says as she pushes the sphygmomanometer back over to the door, "That's all the man-handling over with for a while. Are you still feeling nauseous?" She asks and Lisa turns to watch him nod cautiously, becoming aware of the way he's breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. "There's an order for Compazine in your chart. I'll give you this," she indicates an emesis basin, which she places on the bed next to his left hand, "and go and see the Sister about getting that for you." She turns to Lisa. "Visiting hours are three to four and then again between seven and eight, and children are permitted as long as they're not too disruptive. Normally we wouldn't allow anyone in out with those hours but we'll make an exception tonight just until Dean gets settled in." She smiles amiably when she finishes her speech. "I'll leave you to rest, Dean, and I'll go see about that Compazine for you," she says and she pulls the door to as she heads back into the corridor.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I think this is going to be the final chapter given that it's becoming more and more taxing to keep this interesting and moving forwards. Thanks to everyone who has taken time to comment – it's greatly appreciated.

This chapter is from Lisa's point of view.

* * *

Lisa walks down the dull grey corridor towards the elevators that will take her back down to the surgical waiting room on the second floor and back to Ben and her mother. The lift car is empty when it arrives and she leans against the cold metal side, allowing her eyes to shut briefly as the enormity of the day's events threatens to dispel the smokescreen she'd put up the moment Dean's head hit the kitchen counter at ten forty-one that morning. The doors slide open and Lisa pushes herself upright, scrubbing at her face to chase away the fatigue that has managed to creep up on her once more.

She slips into the waiting room, going unnoticed until she's practically on top of them and Ben looks up from his homework expectantly as she drops into the chair at his side. She smiles tiredly at him and shucks her bag from her shoulder. "Is Dean okay?" Ben asks, his pencil poised over his exercise book and Lisa shuffles forwards to sit on the edge of the chair. "He's going to be fine," she says, "but he's not feeling up to visitors. I'll bring you straight from school tomorrow," she promises.

* * *

Dean had been overcome by the nausea not long after Vicky had gone on the quest for drugs and he'd scrambled for the emesis basin as he lost the fight against his protesting stomach. Lisa had rubbed comforting circles over his back as he'd retched and heaved until his breathing resembled gasping sobs and he was bent almost double, eyes clenched shut as he battled for control. She'd fumbled for the call button remote on the guardrail, not wanting to take her eyes from the trembling figure in the bed as he'd clutched a hand to the site of his incision. "Take a breath, Dean," she'd coached as he'd continued to choke and spit bile into the bowl in his lap, and panic had risen in her throat. The wave of relief that washed over her when the door had been pushed open had threatened to overpower her and she'd found herself trembling uncontrollably as she moved aside to let the nurse take over. The panting had eventually subsided and Dean had languidly allowed the nurse to settle him back onto the mountain of pillows.

The nurse had clucked sympathetically as she had pried the basin from Dean's white-knuckled grip and Lisa had reached for the oxygen mask hanging around his neck. "No," he'd mumbled, drained from the continuing assault on his body, and Lisa had looked questionably towards the nurse who had returned with a fresh basin and a plastic cup of water. "Okay, Sweetheart," the nurse had conceded, setting the bowl and cup on the bed tray across from Dean's bed. "We can leave it off for now." She'd pulled the mask over Dean's head and was unhooking the plastic tubing connecting it to a valve in the wall when Vicky reappeared with a metal kidney dish containing a single syringe. "Oh dear," she'd said and Dean had scowled weakly at the pity in her voice. "I've got your Compazine. This should help with the nausea," she'd advised as she popped the stopper off of the IV cannula in his left hand and pushed the syringe to the port. She'd turned to look at Lisa and hesitated just long enough for Lisa to realize that she was being kicked out for the night. She had nodded and Vicky had shot her a grateful smile as she'd peeled off the gloves she'd donned just after entering the room. "I'll give you a few minutes," she'd said and she'd dropped the soiled gloves in the red body waste bin before leaving.

Lisa had reached for the guardrail separating her from Dean and dropped it so she was able to sit on the bed by his hip. She'd covered his hand with her own and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles as his green eyes came up to meet her chocolate ones. "Looks like I'm being kicked out," she'd told him gently and he'd looked so miserable that she'd physically ached and found herself wishing that she really did have six pairs of hands and a kiss that could cure anything.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **So a few people have asked for a final chapter where Ben goes to visit Dean. Hopefully this chapter will round things off nicely.

* * *

Ben comes barreling out of the main doors approximately 40 seconds after the final bell. He chucks his backpack into the trunk before climbing into the front seat beside her and clicking his seatbelt into the buckle. "How was school?" Lisa asks him as she reverses out of her parking space and Ben shrugs. "Fine. Are we still going to visit Dean?" He's watching her closely as if he's worried she'll say "No" and she smiles at him briefly before shifting into drive. "Do you still want to?" she asks, acting like she doesn't already know the answer and he scowls at her. "Yes, Ben," she tells him," we're still going to visit Dean."

* * *

They enter room seven to find Dean sitting up in bed and the expression on his face changes instantly to happiness when he spots Ben. "Hey, dude," he says, raising his hand to high five the kid, who returns the gesture with a grin. "You planning on standing there all afternoon or are you coming in?" he asks, looking past Ben to where Lisa is standing in the doorway eyeing him critically. He still looks exhausted, pale underneath the freckles and the bruising around his eye has migrated south, making him look like his mascara has run, but the heart monitor is gone and he's been liberated from the IV that the paramedics placed in his hand the day before. He's starting to look like himself again and thank God for that because he just about broke her goddamn heart yesterday with the way he'd looked when she'd had to leave. She pushes herself away from the doorframe, walking around the bed to the side closest to the small window and she leans down to kiss Dean as her son pretends to gag at their PDA.

"You look like you're feeling better," she notes as she moves to sit in the armchair on Dean's right and he nods, right hand coming up to tiredly scrub at his face. "Yeah," he tells her, "but I'd feel better if they stopped prodding where they cut my stomach open." His face is the picture of innocence and Ben laughs when Lisa rolls her eyes at her other half. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then," she says levelly and he grins at her before looking towards Ben and patting the bed beside him.

"Be careful," Lisa warns as Dean gingerly pushes himself over to make room and he looks at her with raised eyebrows. "Yes, Mom," Dean tells her cheekily and Ben grins as he slowly lowers himself gently onto the mattress at Dean's side, mindful of the tender wound and the IV line in his arm. "You're lucky you're already in the hospital, Winchester," she threatens, trying to keep a straight face and Dean snorts at her, hand once again flying to his stomach when it protests at the sudden movement. "Shit," he groans, "don't make me laugh." He lets his head drop back onto his pillow and breathes out slowly. "Don't ever repeat that," he adds, looking pointedly at Ben when Lisa grimaces at his language. "I'd rather not up end back here." He winks at Ben, whose eyes are wide like saucers.

"Has the doctor been by yet?" Lisa asks, leaning forwards in the chair and bringing them back down to Earth with a bump. "Yeah," Dean says, scowling at the memory of Dr. Cooper poking at his sore stomach with his cold, unsympathetic hands. "He waltzed in first this morning, felt me up and then sent one of his minions in to jab me with a huge needle under the pretence of 'taking blood'. It took her three attempts to find a freakin' vein, for God's sake," he grumbles, "I'm gonna have more holes than a goddamn sieve by the time I get out of this hell hole."

"Dean," she interrupts him as he starts to rant and he breaks off and turns to look at her expectantly. "What did he say?" she asks, "There's no signs of infection or anything, is there?" He rolls his eyes at the inquisition. "He said, and I quote, 'That all looks fine'," Dean tells her, "and that was pretty much it. Vampyra, however, said that I might be able to go home tomorrow if the blood test comes clear," he finishes, voice full of hope and longing, and Lisa can't help but hope that 'Vampyra' is right and that Dean will soon be back where he belongs - with her and Ben.


End file.
